Boarded-Up House

by Augusta Huiell Seaman

  CHAPTER XVII

  IN WHICH ALL MYSTERIES ARE SOLVED

  At last the two on the staircase heard footsteps approaching the door,and a pleasant voice called out:

  "Where are you both, little ladies? Will you not come and join us? Ithink we must have some things to be explained!" They came forward, alittle timidly, and their latest visitor held out a hand to each.

  "You wonderful two!" he exclaimed. "Do you realize that, had it not beenfor you, this would never have happened? My mother and I owe you a debtof gratitude beyond all expressing! Come and join us now, and we willsolve the riddles which I'm sure are puzzling us all." He led them overto the sofa, and placed them beside his mother.

  Never was a change more remarkable than that which had come upon Mrs.Collingwood. Her face, from being one of the saddest they had everseen, had grown fairly radiant. She looked younger, too. Ten yearsseemed suddenly to have dropped from her shoulders. Her brown eyesflashed with something of their former fire, and she smiled down at themas only the Lovely Lady of the portrait had ever smiled. There was nodifficulty now in identifying her with that picture.

  "Oh, please--" began Joyce, breathlessly, "won't you tell us, Mr.Collingwood, how you come to be--_not dead!_--and why you gave anothername at the door--and--and--" He laughed.

  "I'll tell you all that," he interrupted, "if you'll tell _me_ who'Joyce Kenway' is!"

  "Why, _I_ am!" said Joyce in surprise. "Didn't you guess it?"

  "How could I?" he answered. "I never supposed it was a _girl_ who sentme that note. I did not even feel sure that the name was not assumed tohide an identity. In fact, I did not know what to think. But I'll cometo all that in its proper place. I'm sure you are all anxious to hearthe strange story I have to tell.

  "In the first place, as it's easy to guess, I wasn't killed at thebattle of Shiloh at all,--but so very seriously wounded--that I came tobe so reported. As I lay on the field with scores of others, after thebattle, a poor fellow near me, who had been terribly hurt, was moaningand tossing. My own wound did not hamper me so much at the time, so Icrawled over to him and tried to make him as comfortable as possibletill a surgeon should arrive. Presently he began to shiver so, with somesort of a chill, that I took off my coat and wrapped it round him. Thecoat had some of my personal papers in it, but I did not think of thatat the time.

  "When the surgeons did arrive, we were removed to different armyhospitals, and I never saw the man again. But he probably died very soonafter, and evidently, finding my name on him, in the confusion it wasreported that _I_ was dead. Well, when I saw the notice of my own deathin the paper, my first impulse was to deny it at once. But my secondthought was to let it pass, after all. I believed that I had brokenforever with my home. In the year that had elapsed, I had never ceasedto hope that the note I left would soften my mother's feelings towardme, and that at least she would send me word that I was forgiven. Butthe word had never come, and hope was now quite dead. Perhaps it wouldbe kinder to her to allow her to think I was no more, having died in thecause I thought right. The more I thought it over, the more I becameconvinced that this was the wisest course. Therefore I let the reportstand. I was quite unknown where I was, and I decided, as soon as I wasable, to make my way out West, and live out my life far from the scenesof so much unhappiness. My wound disqualified me from further armyservice and gave me a great deal of trouble, even after I was dismissedfrom the hospital.

  "Nevertheless, I worked my way to the far West, partly on foot andpartly in the slow stage-coaches of that period. Once in California, Ibecame deeply interested in the gold mines, where I was certain, likemany another deluded one, that I was shortly going to amass an enormousfortune! But, after several years of fruitless search and fruitlesstoil, I stood as poor as the day I had first come into the region. Inthe meantime, the fascination of the life had taken hold of me, and Icould relinquish it for no other. I had always, from a small child, beenpassionately fond of adventure and yearned to see other regions and testmy fortune in new and untried ways. I could have done so no moreacceptably than in the very course I was now pursuing.

  "At the end of those hard but interesting years in California, rumorsdrifted to me of golden possibilities in upper Canada, and I decided totry my luck in the new field. The region was, at that time, practicallya trackless wilderness, and to brave it at all was considered the limitof folly. That, however, far from deterring me, attracted me only themore. I got together an outfit, and bade a long farewell to even therough civilization of California.

  "Those were strange years, marvelous years, that I spent in the mountainfastnesses of upper Canada. For month on month I would see no humanbeing save the half-breed Indian guide who accompanied me, and most ofthe time _he_ seemed to me scarcely human. And all the while the searchfor gold went on, endlessly--endlessly. And the way led me farther andfarther from the haunts of men. Then,--one day,--I found it! Found it ina mass, near the surface, and in such quantities that I actually hadlittle else to do but shovel it out, wash it, and lay the preciousnuggets aside, till at length the vein was exhausted. On weighing it up,I found such a quantity that there was really no object in pursuing thesearch any farther. I had enough. I was wealthy and to spare, and thelonging came upon me to return to my own kind again. By this time,fifteen years had passed.

  "You must not, however, think that in all these years and theseabsorbing interests, I had forgotten my mother. On the contrary,especially when I was in the wilderness, she was constantly in mythoughts. Before I left California for Canada (the war was then oversome four or five years) I had contemplated writing to her, informingher of the mistake about my death, and begging her once more to forgiveme. But, for several reasons, I did not do this. In the first place, Ihad heard of the exceeding bitterness of the South, increased tenfold bythe period of reconstruction through which it was then passing. Oldgrudges, they told me, were cherished more deeply than ever, and membersof the same family often regarded each other with hatred. Of what usefor me then, I thought, to sue for a reconciliation at such a time.

  "Beside that, my very pride was another barrier. I had not beensuccessful. I was, in fact, practically penniless. Would it not appearas though I were anxious for a reconciliation because I did not wish tolose the property which would one day have been mine, had not my motherdisinherited me? No, I could never allow even the hint of such asuspicion. I would wait.

  "But, in the Canadian wilderness, I began to see matters in anotherlight. So far from the haunts of humanity and the clash of humaninterests, one cannot help but look at all things more sanely. Itoccurred to me that perhaps my mother, far from cherishing any bitterfeeling toward me, now that she thought me dead, might be sufferingagonies of grief and remorse because we had not been reconciled beforethe end. If there were even a possibility of this, I must relieve it. SoI sat down one day, and wrote her the most loving, penitent letter,begging anew for forgiveness, and giving her the history of myadventures and my whereabouts. This letter I sent off by my guide, to bemailed at the nearest trading-post.

  "It took him a month to make the journey there and back. I waited threemonths more, in great impatience, then sent him back to the same post,to see if there might be a reply. He came back in due time, but bringingnothing for me, and I felt that my appeal had been in vain.Nevertheless, a few months later I wrote again, with no better result.My guide returned empty-handed. And during the last year I was there, Imade the third and final trial, and, when again no answer came, I feltthat it was beyond all hope to expect forgiveness, since she couldignore three such urgent appeals.

  "I have just learned from my mother that these letters were neverreceived by her, which is a great surprise to me, but I think I know theexplanation. My guide was not honest,--indeed, few of them are,--but,strangely enough, I never discovered any dishonesty in him, while he waswith me. At that time, the postage on letters from that region was veryhigh, sometimes as much as fifty or sixty cents, or even a dollar. This,of course, I always gave to the guide to use i
n sending the letter whenhe got to the trading-post. Now, though the sum seems small to us, itwas large to him. And though I never suspected it at the time, I have nodoubt that he pocketed the money and simply destroyed the letters. Sothat explains why my mother never received any of them.

  "Well, I returned to California a rich man, able to indulge myself inany form of amusement or adventure that pleased me. I found that I stillfelt the lure of foreign countries, and the less explored or inhabited,the better. I shipped for a voyage to Japan and China, and spent severalmore years trying to penetrate the forbidden fastnesses of Tibet. Fromthere, I worked down through India, found my way to the South SeaIslands, and landed at length in Australia with the intention ofpenetrating farther into that continent than any white man had yet setfoot.

  "I think by this time, I had pretty well lost all desire ever to returnto America, especially to New York. But at intervals I still felt aninexpressible longing to see or hear from my mother. Ten or twelve addedyears had slipped by, and it did not seem human that she should continueto feel bitterly toward me. I had almost decided to write to her oncemore, when in Sydney, New South Wales, where I happened to be lookingover the files of an old New York paper in the public library, Istumbled on the death-notice of a Mrs. Fairfax Collingwood ofChesterton, South Carolina. The paper was dated seven years before.

  "The knowledge was like a knife-wound in my heart. There could be nodoubt of the truth. I knew of no other of that name, and the town wasthe very one in which she lived. My mother now tells me that she knew ofthis mistake, an error of the New York paper in copying the item from aSouthern journal. As a matter of fact, it was a very distant cousin ofhers who had died, a Mrs. Fanshawe Collingwood, who also lived in thetown. She was my mother's only living relative, and the paper mentionedthis circumstance. But when the New York paper copied it, they left outall about the surviving cousin, and merely mentioned the name of thedeceased as 'Mrs. Fairfax Collingwood.' My mother had this rectified ina later publication of the paper, but that, of course, I never saw.

  "Well, I went into the heart of Australia under the impression that Iwas now really motherless, and under that impression I have lived eversince. I cannot now detail to you all my wanderings and adventures. Iwill only say that I became deeply interested in the Australian goldmines, bought up one finally, and have superintended its running eversince. Lately, it became necessary for me to make a business trip to NewYork in connection with this mine, and I decided to come by way ofEurope, since I had never seen that portion of the globe. My businesswould not keep me in New York more than a week, and I intended to travelat once back to Australia across the continent, in order to see thechanges that had taken place since I left.

  "I had absolutely no idea of visiting this old home. Why, indeed, shouldI? My mother, as I supposed, was dead. Nothing else mattered. I had nointerest in the property. For aught I knew it might have changed handstwenty times since we lived there. It might not even be in existence. Atany rate, I had no wish to revive the bitterness of that memory. Thencame the strange note this morning, which I believe you, Miss Joyce,are responsible for!

  "To say that I was completely bewildered by it, would be putting itmildly. It made a statement that was new to me, indeed, and mightaccount for many things. But what was I to do about it? Which way shouldI turn? No use to hurry down to South Carolina,--my mother being dead.Of whom should I make inquiries? The firm of New York lawyers that Iremembered her as formerly retaining, I dreaded to consult, lest theythink I had come to make a claim on the property. There seemed to beabsolutely no clue.

  "And then I happened to look at the envelope and saw that it waspostmarked Rockridge, a region which I speedily ascertained was right inthe vicinity of my old home. That decided me to come out here at once,this afternoon, hunt up the spot, and try to discover in this waywhether there was any use of pursuing investigations further in thisdirection.

  "As I have said, I naturally supposed that the property had changedhands many times before this; and that all its old belongings had longsince been sent to my mother or sold by her orders.

  "When I arrived in this street and saw the old house still standing,forlorn, unkempt, apparently deserted, and quite unchanged since I knewit, I was still more astonished. But when I noticed the little door inthe boarding standing open, I resolved to begin my investigations rightthere, and I boldly went up and knocked. Then Miss Joyce came out andannounced that a member of the Collingwood family was here on business.That, too, seemed incredible, as I remembered no surviving member of thefamily. Discretion, however, seemed to me the better part of valor, andI decided to give the name that I had borne during my first years inCalifornia, till I could ascertain more definitely just what thesituation was.

  "So I came in--as Mr. Arthur Calthorpe--and the mystery deepened tenfoldwhen I saw this old room all lit up precisely as I had remembered it somany years ago. It so carried me back into my youth that, for a fewmoments, I quite lost track of the present. And when I came to the oldpiano, the impulse seized me to play a few bars and hum the lines of alittle song I had once composed for my mother. I had at that time rathera gift for music, and this song was a sort of secret of ours-- I neversang or played it for any one else. And she remembered it!

  "Well, you know the rest!--" And he stopped abruptly. They all drew longbreaths of relaxed tension.

  "There's something that has puzzled me all along," began Joyce, at last."I wonder if Mrs. Collingwood would object to my asking about it?"

  "No, indeed, dear child," replied that lady. "Have no hesitation inasking what you wish."

  "It's this, then. I have often and often wondered why you never cameback to this beautiful old home, or at least sent for the books andpictures and lovely things that were going to ruin here. Did you neverthink of it?"

  "I do not wonder that you ask," answered Mrs. Collingwood, "for it musthave seemed very strange to an outsider. Of course, for the first fewyears, my anger had been so great, and my grief was still so terrible,that I felt I could never, never look upon the place or anything in itagain. Then, as you have heard, I willed the house itself and the landto the Southern Society, as I had no one to whom I wished to leave it,and my means were sufficient, so that I did not need to sell it. As theyears passed on, however, and my feelings altered, I did begin to thinkit a pity that the place should run to neglect and ruin.

  "So strong did this conviction become, that I decided to come Northmyself, and personally superintend putting the house in order. I couldnot bear to leave this task to outsiders. I even thought that, if Ifound I could endure the memories, I would live in it a while, for thesake of the old happy years with my little boy. I even had my trunkspacked and my ticket bought, when suddenly I came down with typhoidfever, so severe an attack that it was thought I could not live. Thatended all thoughts of my coming North for a long while, as I wasmiserably weak and helpless for months after, and in fact, have neverquite recovered my strength. The years drifted on and with them came oldage, and the reluctance to make the long journey and endure the strainof it all. Had it not been for Miss Cynthia's letter, I should neverhave come.

  "But, to change the subject a trifle, my son is very anxious to know howyou two young things have come to be concerned in all this, and I havenot yet had time to tell him--fully. Will you not give him an account ofit now? It is very wonderful."

  And so they began, first Joyce and then Cynthia,--interrupting andsupplementing each other. They were still rather anxious on the subjectof meddling and trespassing, but they did not try to excuse themselves,recounting the adventures simply and hiding nothing. The older peoplelistened intently, sometimes amused, sometimes touched, often moredeeply moved than they cared to show.

  "We began it at first just for fun,--we pretended to be detectives. Butas it went on, we got more and more deeply interested, till at lastthis--this all seemed more important than our own lives," ended Joyce."Only, I know we did wrong in the beginning ever to come in here at all.We are trespassers and medd
lers, and I hope you can forgive us!"

  "The dearest little meddlers in the world!" cried Mrs. Collingwood. "Canany forgiveness be necessary?" And she cuddled them both in her arms.

  "There's just one thing _I'd_ like to ask, if you don't mind," saidCynthia, coming suddenly out of a brown study. "It's the one thing wenever could account for. Why was that room up-stairs locked, and whathas become of the key?" Mrs. Collingwood flushed.

  "I locked the door and threw the key down the well--that night!" sheanswered slowly. "I don't suppose you can quite understand, if you arenot afflicted with a passionate temper, as I was. When my son--whenFairfax here--had gone, and I was shutting up the house and came to hisroom,--I wanted to go in,--oh, you cannot know how I wanted to go in!But I knew that if I once entered and stood among his dear belongings, Ishould relent-- I should rush away to find him and beg him to come backto me. And I--I did not _want_ to relent! I stood there five minutesdebating it. Then I suddenly locked the door on the outside, and beforegiving myself time for a second thought, I rushed down-stairs, out ofdoors, and threw the key into the old well,--where I could never get itagain!

  "Children, I am an old woman. I shall be seventy-five next birthday.Will you heed a lesson I have learned and paid for with the bitterestyears of my life? If you are blessed with a calm, even, forgivingnature, thank God for it always. But if you are as I was, pray daily forhelp to curb that nature, before you have allowed it to work somedesperate evil!" She hid her face in her hands.

  "There, there, little Mother of mine!" murmured her son. "Let us forgetall that now! What does anything matter so long as we are togetheragain--for always?" He leaned over, pulled her hands from her face, andkissed her tenderly. The moment was an awkward one, and Cynthia wishedmadly that she had not been prompted to ask that unfortunate question.Suddenly, however, the tension was broken by Mrs. Collingwoodexclaiming:

  "Mercy me! See that enormous _cat_ walking in! Wherever did it comefrom?" They all turned toward the door.

  "Oh, that's Goliath!" said Joyce, calmly. "He feels very much at homehere, for he has come in with us often. He led the way that first day,if you remember. And he's been _such_ a help!-- He's a better detectivethan any of us!"

  "Blessings on Goliath then, say I!" laughed Mr. Fairfax Collingwood,and, approaching the huge feline with coaxing words, he gathered itsunresisting form in his arms and deposited the warm, furry purring beastin his mother's lap.

  And while they were all laughing over and petting Goliath, a queer thinghappened. The candles, which had been burning now for several hours,had, unnoticed by all, been gradually guttering and spluttering out. Atlength only four or five flames remained, feebly wavering in their poolsof melted wax. The occupants of the room had been too absorbed withtheir own affairs to notice the gradual dimming of the illumination. Butnow Joyce suddenly looked up and perceived what had happened.

  "Why, look at the candles!" she cried. "There are only about three left,and they won't last more than a minute or two!" Even as she spoke, twoof them flickered out. The remaining one struggled for anotherhalf-minute, and flared up in one last, desperate effort. The nextinstant, the room was in total darkness. So unexpected was the change,that they all sat very still. The sudden pall of darkness in thisstrange house of mystery was just a tiny bit awesome.

  "Well! This _is_ a predicament!" exclaimed Fairfax Collingwood who wasfirst to recover from the surprise. "Fortunately I have a box ofmatches!"

  Then, with one accord they began to steer their wayaround the furniture]

  "Oh, don't worry!" added the practical Cynthia. "There's an extra candlethat I left on the mantel. It will do nicely to light us out." Gropingto the chimney-place with the aid of his matches, Mr. Collingwood foundthe candle and lit it. Then, with one accord, they all rose and began tosteer their way around the furniture toward the hall, Goliath following.In the hall, Mr. Collingwood looked at his watch, exclaiming:

  "It is six-thirty! Who would believe it!" The two girls gave asimultaneous gasp of dismay.

  "Dinner!-- It was ready half an hour ago! What _will_ they think?" criedJoyce.

  "Never mind _what_ they think, just for to-night!" responded Mrs.Collingwood, gaily. "You can tell them when you're explaining all this,that what you've done for us two people is beyond the power of words toexpress. They'll forgive you!" She bent down and kissed them both with acaress that thrilled them to their finger-tips. Then they all passed outthrough the great front door to the wide old veranda. Mr. Collingwood,taking the key from his mother, locked the little door in the boarding,after them. And in the warm, waning May afternoon, they filed down thesteps. At the gate, Mr. Collingwood turned to the girls:

  "I am taking my mother back to New York for a few days. She must rest,and we have much to talk over. I scarcely need tell you that I am _not_returning to Australia!-- We shall come back here very soon, open upthis old home, put it in order, and probably spend the rest of our livesbetween here and the South.

  "Dear girls, I hardly need say to you that in all the world we shallconsider that we have no closer or more devoted friends than yourselves!This house will always be open to you. You must look upon it as a secondhome. You have given back to us the most priceless blessing,--the onething we neither hoped nor expected to enjoy again in this world,--_eachother_!" He could not go on. He was very much moved. And as for the twogirls, they were utterly speechless under the pressure of feeling.

  They remained standing at the gate, watching the two go down the streetin the sunset, and waved to them wildly as they turned to look back,just before rounding the corner. And at last the intervening trees shutthem from sight.

  When they were gone, Cynthia and Joyce turned and looked long andincredulously into each other's eyes. They _might_ have made, on thisoccasion, a number of high-flown and appropriate remarks, the tenor ofwhich would be easy to imagine. Certainly the time for it was ripe, andbeyond a doubt they _felt_ them! But, as a matter of fact, they indulgedin nothing of the sort. Instead, Joyce suddenly broke into a laugh.

  "We'll never have to go in there by the cellar window again!" sheremarked.

  "Sure enough!" agreed Cynthia. "What a relief that'll be!"

  And so ended the adventure of the Boarded-up House!